


Dark Night

by merentha13



Category: The Professionals
Genre: Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-05
Updated: 2017-04-05
Packaged: 2018-10-15 03:27:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10549294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merentha13/pseuds/merentha13
Summary: A rescue





	

The mizzle fell relentlessly, soaking Doyle’s hair and running unabated down the back of his neck. An icy wind ruffled the tattered remains of his shirt, exposing bare skin to the elements. Frozen feet splashed uncaring through oil sheened puddles. None of the discomforts mattered -- he was free. Free of the thugs that had held him captive for the past several hours.

But for how long? He sneezed with a curse. They would surely notice that their prized CI5 agent was missing sooner rather than later. Stopping to take stock he leaned against the cold brick wall. Chilled to the bone after hours of beatings in the bitterly damp warehouse, he’d not fared well in Donnelly's hands. His ribs sent sharp pains through his chest with every shuddering breath. Stiff fingers could barely grip the gun he’d taken from his inattentive captors. But he hadn’t broken; hadn’t told them where Cowley had been hidden to foil their assassination plot. He hoped that Bodie had got the message to come pick him up.

A noise from behind startled him. He spun, stumbling on numb feet, gun raised, fingers reflexively squeezing the trigger.

His target stepped into the weak circle of light emanating from the fixture above the street and directly into the path of his bullet. “No!” he yelled in horror. Bodie.

Hearing the yell, Bodie dropped to the tarmac. Doyle watched his partner fall and with another anguished cry he dropped the gun to the ground and ran unsteadily to where Bodie lay. Gently rolling Bodie over he began to urgently run his hands over the downed man searching for the wound that had felled his partner.

“You stupid bastard! What did you go and do that for.” He leaned over and rested his forehead against Bodie's. “Christ, I’m sorry, Bodie. But what were you thinking, strolling through alley like you were taking a walk in the park? Why’d you break cover? I’m sorry, I’m sorry... you stupid bloody fool!” he repeated the chant over and over in a hoarse broken whisper while his hands continued to frantically seek the damage, his emotions tumbling over each other from anger to terror and back again.

The body under his hands shifted.

“Doyle, what are you doing?” The tone was amused.

Shocked, Doyle recoiled. “Bodie?” he croaked.

“Last time I checked.” Bodie winked up at him.

The anger flared again. He shoved Bodie away and stood up. “Don’t make jokes, Bodie,” he snarled. He ran his hands through wet hair and wiped his arm across his eyes. His voice dropped to a whisper. “I almost killed you.” He shook his head in disbelief. “You should be dead.”

Bodie stood up slowly, looking dismayed as he tried to shake the wetness from his coat. “Don’t think so, mate.”

Doyle backed away from him.

“Ray?” Bodie took a step towards him and he backed away again.

“Bloody hell, Bodie. I shot you,” Doyle insisted. “You fell.”

“Shot me? Not likely.” Bodie opened his coat. “Look, no perforations.”

Bodie moved forward again and caught Doyle by a trembling wrist. “You are in a state aren’t you? C’mere.”

Bodie pulled him over to where the Browning lay on the bitumen. He bent over and picked it up. “Was a misfire, Ray.” He pushed the gun into Doyle’s hand. “Take a look. Bullet never left the gun.”

“A stoppage?” Doyle’s eyes widened and his knees buckled. He sat heavily on the ground staring blankly at the weapon.

Bodie knelt in front of him, gently clearing the blood crusted under Doyle’s nose. He took the gun back.

“You have had a rough time, haven't you?” He cleared the bullet from the chamber and handed the Browning back to Doyle.

Doyle’s response caught in his throat as voices shouted behind them.

Bodie pulled Doyle to his feet. “Better move, mate. Unless you want to partake of their hospitality again?”

Doyle scowled at him as Bodie steadied him. “That’s better, 4.5.” Bodie grabbed his arm and pulled him further into the alley; the yellow glare of the street lights stretched their shadows into long silhouettes.

“C’mon, then.”

Shaking him off, Doyle spat, “Leave off, Bodie. I’m all right.”

“Of course you are.” Bodie raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. The voices grew louder. They made their way, Bodie in the lead, along the edge of the building, putting distance between themselves and their pursuers.

Doyle stumbled, holding his ribs. The gun dropped from his fingers and clattered to the tarmac. He couldn’t catch his breath. Bodie hurried back to the slumped figure.

“Ray?”

“Can’t do it, Bodie,” he coughed wetly. “Can’t move fast enough.”

Footsteps sounded closer.

“Look, Bodie. Leave me here.” A glare silenced Bodie’s protest. “Find a place where you can watch and pick them off when they show themselves.” He tried to take a deep breath and flinched.

“Doyle-”

“Go, Bodie! Otherwise they’ll have the both of us.” Tipping his head back against the bricks, he closed his eyes. “’m sorry, Bodie. Just can’t...”

Bodie handed Doyle the gun. “You’ve only one bullet-”

“One’s enough,” Doyle interrupted him, his voice flat.

Meeting Bodie’s disapproving glare, Doyle said, “I’m not going to let them have me again, Bodie.”

Bodie stood up and looked around. He found a window-well in the wall of one of the buildings.

“Problem solved.” He walked back to Doyle rubbing his hands together and helped Doyle to his feet.

“We haven’t time for your clowning, Bodie. What’re you on about now?”

Bodie presented the square opening in the wall to Doyle with a flourish. “Tuck yourself in here, old son and let me handle the baddies.”

“Bodie-”

The rhythmic scrape of hard boot heels echoed down the dark passage, getting closer.

“Move, Doyle,” Bodie ordered quietly; all the previous humour gone from his voice.

Giving Bodie a resentful look, Doyle levered himself into the small space, wincing as he aggravated damaged ribs.

Bodie moved further up the alley and slipped into the shelter of a doorway.

Muffled voices ghosted down the passageway.

“We ain’t goin’ ta find ‘em.”

“Should’ve killed the bastard when we had the chance.”

“Donnelly’s not gonna be best pleased.”

“Yeah, well, he can do the other.”

“Let’s get outta here. The slippery devil is probably long gone by now.”

A disgruntled curse followed the words as footsteps turned away from their quarry's undiscovered hiding places.

Bodie waited several minutes before peering around the corner of the door frame. Not seeing anyone he hurried over to Doyle.

“Let’s go, mate, before they change their minds and come back for us.”

Doyle unfolded himself and stepped out of the niche. He gasped as his feet hit the ground and stumbled into Bodie.

Bodie propped him up and turned him towards the glow from the streetlight. “You look terrible, mate.” He put his coat around his shivering partner.

“Oh, yes?” Doyle wrapped an arm around himself.

“Well, I guess we can’t all be tall, dark and beautiful,” Bodie smirked and received a sharp elbow to his gut.

Doyle grimaced with the movement.

“Serve s you right, you ungrateful sod.”

“Berk.”

“Let’s get you to hospital.”

Doyle nodded.

Side by side, Bodie supporting his unsteady partner, the tap of their footsteps were the only sounds to be heard. The light rain had given way to fog, enshrouding them in a deeper silence. Their path was illuminated by the misty halos surrounding the street lamps.

Doyle grabbed Bodie’s arm and pulled him to a stop. “Thanks,” he said simply and then quickly changed the subject. “Cowley’s okay, then?”

“Safe as houses.”

“Well, at least all this wasn’t a waste.”

“Eh?”

“Saved his arse didn’t I? Cowley’s? Kept Donnelly’s gang from finding him.”

“Doyle.”

“Might be a good time to ask him about that rise, yeah?”

“Might want to wait until you’ve recovered from this beating before inviting another.”

“Nah, get it all over at once – only one trip to casualty that way.” Doyle grinned.

Bodie ruffled Doyle’s wet curls. They started again for home, slowly following their own shadows up the street.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the "Adopt a Pic" challenge at Prosfanfic - slightly edited version


End file.
